Search results matching tags 'classroom management' and 'what it's really like to be a teacher'

my brain is overloaded

Anonymous — Tue, 25 Sep 2012 23:30:04 GMT

On the one hand, spending a morning with preschoolers can be lovely and simple. Read stories, play, follow routines, talk, play outside, learn about interesting things.

On the other hand, spending a morning with preschoolers can be made frustrating and complicated. And that can be from outside forces, or it can come from me.

I had my second data meeting today, and the main idea was to meet with our teams and talk about how we can plan for small group instruction to work with children on their areas of need. I talked with the afternoon teacher (how rare is that opportunity!) and one of our literacy coaches about how to do it in our short period of time. With their help, I have a tentative plan to do a short small group time every day after morning meeting, starting on Monday.

Here are some of the many things I am thinking about — so that they are crowding my head and I can’t think straight, let alone prioritize and figure out how to get it all done:

How can I get the breakfast kids (14 out of 19 kids) to eat faster and get back to the room sooner, so I can start morning meeting earlier, so we have time for small groups?
When will I (and how will I) place the kids into 4 groups? I need to find the time to look at the data I have so far….
How are we going to manage the Americorps volunteer getting all of her IGDIs (Individual Growth and Development Indicators) done? Especially when I keep needing her in the classroom? Especially when the kindergartner from across the hall spends a good part of his day out in the hallway, sobbing loudly, so that she can’t get our kids to pay attention to her, let alone hear what she is asking them?
How are we going to manage my assistant getting all the portfolios done, especially when she is gone for 45 min of the morning on her morning and lunch breaks?
Story time is going badly, for the first time in ages. I need to back up and stick with short, funny, engaging books. That means more Mo Willems, more Pete the Cat, and that also means abandoning richer, more challenging texts that have content and vocabulary related to our themes.
Which is more important: teaching content via themes, working on basic skills like letters and colors, or working on classroom skills like taking turns, listening to teachers, and cutting with scissors? I can’t do all of them; how do I choose?
When am I going to look at the teaching rubric, figure out what I want to focus on, notify my observer, and plan for my first formal observation?
How will I plan for my daily small groups? How will I manage materials? When will I do the planning/organizing?
Should I come back to school one evening to work? Make my family order a pizza for dinner, since I won’t be there? Maybe then I could get caught up?
Why am I having to come so early every day? This hasn’t happened in years. Why is this year so much harder?
What is the right thing to do for the kids?!

I am disappointed in myself, and feeling internal pressure to do better. I also have very tense neck and shoulders, and am worried that I am basically going to give myself another migraine.

The Second Day is So Much Better

Anonymous — Fri, 31 Aug 2012 00:28:43 GMT

I did wake up with another migraine, but it went away and hasn’t come back. My morning crier came back, and true to his word, wasn’t scared, and didn’t cry at all. He even rode the bus to school with no troubles. My end-of-the-morning crier, on the other hand, started crying as soon as his sister left him in our room, and he cried on and off for the rest of the morning. When he wasn’t crying, he was talking non-stop to my assistant teacher, who is fluent in Spanish. Later she said he might have OCD, because he would obsess about one little thing after another. (“I want to go home. I want my mommy and daddy. Is it time for the bus? Can I go home on the bus now to my mommy and daddy? What bus do I get on? Does my teacher know what bus is mine? I live at number four. Does the bus driver know that? Is it on my bus tag? Does it say four? Do you know? Can we go look at my bus tag right now? It needs to say four. Does it say four?” and so on.) But even he had a few quiet, content moments.

Everyone seems like they understand at least some of what I’m saying, which is impressive, since only three of my students are native English speakers. They are already starting to learn how to walk in a line, without seeming like I’m trying to herd puppies. They are learning to ask “can I get some water?” instead of just walking out of the room, and they are learning a little bit about how to clean up, how to wash hands, and where the bathroom is.

They are sweet, and they are lovely, and they are mine. It will be another good year.

We had time for a nice long recess, which they loved, and they got in line much more quickly this time. When we went in, one boy’s mother walked along with us. One of the other boys, realizing she must speak Spanish, started chatting to her. I asked for a translation, and she said, “He says I should see the class, it is very beautiful. And clean.” That put a smile on my face.

Our classroom is very beautiful. And clean.

the flaw in my brilliant plan

Anonymous — Wed, 25 Apr 2012 11:55:54 GMT

I believe that I am a very good teacher, and that classroom management (behavior, organization, community-building, routines, etc.) is one of my strengths. And that is largely true. I start off the year by teaching the children all of our routines, hold them to high expectations for behavior and academics, and then teach them step-by-step how to meet those expectations.

While the beginning of the year is exhausting, by mid-October the class has settled into school and my room has become a well-oiled, high-functioning machine. My room is calm, happy, loving, and purposeful. It works great, and it makes me feel great to have gotten there.

However, I have just discovered the flaw in my way of doing things. I expect that from October to June, things will mostly go according to plan. I have failed to accomodate for the possibility of getting new kids in the spring who don’t know any of my rules, routines, or expectations, and who are way behind all the kids I’ve been able to teach since September.

So here I am, completely flummoxed and frustrated, because I have new students who don’t know that they are supposed to listen to me when I say their names, who don’t know that hitting is not reasonable behavior, who don’t know that books are precious and it is not okay to write in them, and who don’t even know how to wash their hands. I am no longer in beginning-of-school mode, and it is overwhelming sometimes to think of all the things I have to reteach.

Yesterday was another bad day. I was short-tempered, and felt terrible about it.

on sharing, the little red hen, and teachers

Anonymous — Sun, 20 Nov 2011 16:31:37 GMT

There is a new teacher teaching the afternoon class this year. She is young, determined, and confident. I had hoped to develop a mentoring relationship with her, but she doesn’t seem interested. Which is completely fine. She doesn’t have much overlap with me anyway, as she arrives from her morning class at another school across town right about the time when I am leaving to go home, or sometimes even after.

I have been concerned that she doesn’t feel like the room is really hers. It has ME stamped all over it, for one thing. It’s a tiny room, and is arranged the best way I have been able to figure out to do it, and the shelves are full of my books, curriculum, and materials. I have made some space for her, but not nearly enough.

We had a teacher work day recently, and with a little help from me, our Americorps volunteer reorganized our art supply cupboard. She was awesome — she got rid of tons of stuff, and reorganized/repackaged the stuff we want to keep, and now the cupboard is usable. I thought that the afternoon teacher would be happy to see it.

She was. She also took it as a sign that she could make changes, too, so she reorganized some areas of the room. When I came in on Monday, the small drawer unit next to the teacher chair in the meeting area was tucked into a corner where it was difficult to reach, among. I was dismayed — I use the top of the drawer unit to place all the things I will need during morning meeting, and the drawers contain things I use daily or almost daily. When she came in that day we had a brief, intense, awkward conversation, and she made it clear that my drawer unit had been in her way, and she didn’t want it back. I did get an okay from her to bring in a much smaller drawer unit, so I did.

That same week I read different versions of “The Little Red Hen” to my class, and we had a lot of interesting discussions about sharing. The kids unanimously said that she should share the bread when I got to the penultimate page and asked, “what should she do?” But then when we got to the last page and she ate the bread herself (or with her chicks), they all said that was the right thing to do, too. We struggled with that idea — sharing is good but sometimes it’s okay not to share — all week.

Meanwhile, I felt bad for not sharing the room more, but for still wanting my stupid drawer unit back in its old place. Sometimes it’s hard for grown-ups to share, too.

now that was a margarita day if I ever had one

Anonymous — Sat, 10 Sep 2011 18:55:35 GMT

Yesterday was even more difficult than I had expected.

I got to work early, but it still wasn’t early enough to get everything done before the big meeting. The meeting was actually quite productive; Mom showed up, with Little One in tow, and Mom was very helpful. (Little one came over and collapsed on my lap, not long after I had mentioned that I didn’t think she had any special relationship with me, as she was in class so little of the time. It was amusing and sweet, but also concerning. She hugs total strangers regularly, which makes me wonder if she is insecure and/or insecurely attached.)

All of the problems were laid out on the line, and the Princess was wonderfully blunt. We ended up going with what the Princess said — we need to come up with a plan and do everything we can to help her be successful, and if that doesn’t work, we will talk about another setting.

We learned a lot from Mom, mainly that much of the behavior we’ve seen is not because she is overwhelmed and can’t help herself, but that it is deliberate and she is testing us.

We decided to start with a sticker chart for being in the right place at the right time (Mom said Little One loves stickers), and I put that into place right away that morning. ”You’re in line for breakfast! You get a sticker on your page…..You’re sitting down for morning meeting! You get a sticker on your page.” The sticker page and my setting firmer boundaries made an amazing difference. She was calmer, behaved more appropriately, and was probably only NOT with us for about 10% of the time, which is a huge difference from the previous two days.

She was still very difficult, and exhausting. I gave so much of my attention to her, and used so much effort to keep her on track, that the rest of the class started to fall apart. They were really jealous of Little One’s stickers, and some of them pouted when I said that they would have to wait for another day. They were hungry for my attention, and I had several children trying to talk to me or hug me at once for most of the morning. Their neediness was exhausting, as was the way they stopped doing things they had just learned to do (“Get back in line, please! No, come over here. No, it’s not your turn yet,” and so on). I snapped at them a few times, and felt terrible about it. I wished I had a clone.

To make things more difficult, my wonderful Americorps volunteer was at a training meeting, and my assistant and I were scrambling all morning. Plus it was the day for Friday folders, but I hadn’t finished the newsletter yet. I didn’t even get to look at my lesson plan before the day started, so after morning meeting I took the class outside and left them with the assistant teacher while I ran in and tried to find help. I saw the school psychologist and asked, “Do you have ten minutes to spare?” and he answered, gallantly, “For you, I do.” (Mental note: it pays to be nice and to be appreciative of EVERYONE.) He went out to help with recess while I quickly got the classroom ready for the next activity.

I never did get my margarita, but I did finish my day with a lovely glass of wine.

so that was one of my harder first weeks of school

Anonymous — Sat, 03 Sep 2011 19:41:43 GMT

I’ve been feeling logy ever since I went home from work yesterday, and grateful that I have a three day weekend.

Don’t get me wrong; this year will be terrific. The kids are great, and extremely likable, and smart, not to mention very cute. But a few things are different this year that might get us off to a slower, slightly more difficult start. I’ve never had so many kids show up the first week before. That might seem weird to you, unless you work in a large urban district like mine. Usually I’ll have 3-6 kids whose names are on my list, but never show up. Their parents sign ‘em up, but then move or change schools without bothering to mention it to us. This year, I had 19 of my 20, right from the start. Poor little J., whoever he may be. I kind of hope he doesn’t show up.

If I had 14 or so, it would be easier to teach the rules and routines, and then we could more easily absorb new kids as they show up. Ah well, not this year.

I’ve also never had so many non-English speakers in my class. Only 4 of the 19 speak English as their first language. That’s a challenge, even though most of them speak or at least understand a little bit of English. (Some of the kids whose parents told me “he doesn’t speak any English” actually do speak a little, which was a nice surprise.) Much of what I am saying to them about school and what I want them to do and how we do things here are going zoooooom, right over their heads.

So when E. won’t stop talking and interrupting, or when M. keeps going up the slide (instead of down, which is my rule, to prevent crashes) and both of them end up sitting in the take-a-break chair, they don’t completely understand what they are doing there. E. got very serious and quiet. M. sobbed, then got very pouty. I told them I wasn’t mad, that I want them to listen to me and remember the rules, but I don’t think they understood.

And while my migraines stayed away, I was really struggling in the heat and high humidity. On Thursday I sweated so much my lanyard was wet, and that was a (gross) first.

I still haven’t gotten enough sleep since work started, and last but not least, I am having trouble figuring out how to take care of my home and family responsibilities while exhausted and trying to find a work-life balance.

Oh yeah, there was one more thing. Little S., my screamer. We had a special ed teacher helping us on Thursday and Friday; I don’t know how we will manage on Tuesday, when it’s just us and little Screamy.

(P.S. Upcoming topics, much more positive: 1. vanquishing migraines, 2. my amazingly clean desk, and 3. Angela Watson’s terrific new book.)

thinking big

Anonymous — Thu, 04 Aug 2011 23:08:08 GMT

Our children are away at camp, so last night my husband and I had a Wednesday date for dinner and a movie (“Crazy, Stupid, Love” — highly recommended). At dinner, he said, “Do you have any goals for this coming school year?”

And with that, I was off.

I want to have a clean desk. Every day. I’m going to have to rethink a lot of things about storage and daily routines, but it would be so great to have a clean desk.
I want to reduce clutter in the classroom.
I want to have a class binder that has all my important info in one place, including…
…my lesson plans, which I still want to figure out how to do on the computer. I want to come up with a sort of spreadsheet/chart that blocks off the hours in the day, where I can write what we will be doing each chunk of time.
I want to be better at teaching rhyming and alliteration.
I want to write more repeated interactive readaloud lesson plans.
I want to make time to do the RIRA discussions every week.
I want to do water science with the water table. I planned on doing it last year, but didn’t get around to it.
I want to work on teaching vocabulary, and continue working on creating my own set of vocabulary cards.

“So, resting on your laurels, right?” he joked.

It’s August, and my time at home is slowly vanishing, but I am starting to get in the right mindset. I think I will be happy to go back, when the time comes.

Mrs. Mimi has a new blog

Anonymous — Wed, 20 Jul 2011 13:56:44 GMT

It’s called Mrs. Mimi Teaches, and is going to be full of ideas to help teachers in their classrooms. I say “going to be” because as yet, it’s pretty spare on content. However, as Mrs. Mimi is a fellow lover of books, school supplies, and being organized, I have high hopes.

(By the way, if you haven’t checked out her original blog, or her book – both of them called “It’s Not All Flowers and Sausages”–you should. She is snarky and hilarious.)

either I’m very lucky or I’m some sort of genius

Anonymous — Mon, 16 May 2011 18:53:38 GMT

On Friday we had a visitor who was there to observe one of my students, who is being assessed for possible special ed services. She sat during centers time and watched and took notes.

The art center was full of kids making ants out of black paper and then adding glitter glue to them. This was thrilling, but they managed to stay calm and focused. The usual suspects sat at the lego table, and we had a small bunch working hard at the writing center. I was at the games table playing Go Fish, as I mentioned in my last post. The morning was busy and productive, and the kids were calm and content.

Later, when she was leaving, the visitor said, “You have a really great bunch of kids this year.”

I agreed with her, of course. They are a lovely group of children.

But in my head, I was thinking, “There is a reason they are so busy and happy and well-behaved. There is a reason they have learned so much this year. There is a reason this classroom is so calm and runs so smoothly.”

And that would be me. (I know, modest much?)

all the ways in which I suck as a teacher

Anonymous — Tue, 05 Apr 2011 11:36:59 GMT

Monday rolls around, and I often don’t have my lesson planning done, so I have to wing it.
I don’t keep changing the centers activities to match our theme; it’s so much work and I don’t have the time. Okay, sometimes I do. But not nearly enough.
Sometimes I don’t keep a tight lid on the schedule, and we run out of time for recess.
My desk and all the surfaces around the edges of the room are a mess. I’m not very good about putting things away after I’ve used them.
I don’t come in really early and stay late, the way most truly devoted teachers do. I try to protect my personal and family time, but then I feel like I’m not giving enough time to my work. And it’s impossible to be a really great teacher without putting in lots of unpaid time.
All my blog announcements to the contrary, I still don’t really teach science. I have this amazing water science book I was going to put in action, but haven’t found the time to read the whole *** thing and do all the prep work.
I don’t contact parents nearly often enough.
I don’t always write my weekly newsletter early enough to get it translated into Spanish.

There’s more. I’ll keep ruminating on my failings….